


Keep Yourself Safe

by ardentmuse



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love Letters, Marriage, Possible Character Death, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: Harry is leaving tomorrow for a particularly dangerous mission and needs you, his wife, to understand how he plans to keep you safe, just in case.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr (@ardentmuse). Conceived as a one-shot that expanded. I hope you enjoy it. :)

The soft jazz that was coming from the bedroom stopped, signaling that Harry was preparing for bed. You smiled, happy that your partner wasn’t working himself ragged late into the night.  You washed the dirt from the day off your face, the cold water helping to make you feel refreshed. You finish the last parts of your nightly routine, brushing your teeth and moisturizing, before making your way to the bedroom.

Harry was lounging in bed with his forearm behind his head, book in his other hand.  He often read before he slept, books on history or nature, but occasionally classics like this one. Tonight was an old hardback copy of collected English Romantic poets.

You bounded onto your side of the bed, forcing Harry to look up from his reading. You knelt beside him.

“Enjoying your reading tonight?” you asked him, your energy causing his to smile softly. You could see his exhaustion in the crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

He places his book on the side table, reaching out to you with his now free hand.  

“Yes, would you join me?” he asked, watching for your nod before he slowly tugged you forward. He waited patiently as you positioned yourself under the covers, snuggling into his side. Your head pillowed itself on his chest, the softness of his flannel brushing your cheek. You pulled your thigh up over his, so that your knee was nestled between his legs. You wiggled a bit to find your comfort, nuzzling into his chest as you did so. Harry just watched you, patient and unmoving. He loved that you wanted to be so close, and wasn’t going to stir and give you reason to pull away. Once settled, he places his arm around your back, gently massaging your shoulder. After a moment or two, he stretched his other arm to retrieve the book once again.

Harry began to read, softly so that just you could hear. His voice was warm and slow, the love and reverence for both the words and the woman hearing them were clear in his tone. You weren’t fully conscious of the words he was saying. You couldn’t tell if it was Lord Byron or Keats but he was speaking of lilies and fairies, true love and beauty. You could feel the rumble of his voice moving through his chest. His breathing lifted your head up and down lightly as he continued on. The hand on your shoulder had begun stroking your hair at some point, his head moving closer to you, nearly leaning on top of yours as he finished the poem and began the next. You had never felt such a pure and blissful peace. Slowly his words began to fade away, your senses being overtaken by the soft strokes of his hand, the gentle scent of his aftershave, the comforting heat radiating from his torso. Sleep was coming up too quickly.

You were jostled by the sound of the thick book hitting the side table once more. You looked up quickly to see the apologetic gleam on his face; his eyes boring into yours with a level of seriousness that immediately filled you with worry. Harry often chose bed as his time to share negative news, hoping to hold you and comfort you as you processed whatever he shared. He wanted you near, to be able to tell things directly to your face, to see your understanding and love. It was usually more about reassuring him than comforting you, you knew. He often feared that his lifestyle and work would push you away, that one day you’d decide you had had enough and would walk out of his life forever. He needed the comfort of you beside him before he’d leave for a mission or announce a long trip. You were the one constant in a storm of chaos that was being a Kingsman agent. If he didn’t have you to come back to, sometimes he wondered if he would bother coming home at all.

“Darling, I am sorry to rouse you,” he began, returning to the comfort of your embrace, only now utilizing his hand to gentle lift your chin, guaranteeing that you were making eye contact with him. “As you know, I’ve been home for a while now working with the new recruits,” his finger now gently stroked your jaw line. You could tell he was nervous about whatever he had to say next. Normally all of his movements were so conscious and precise. When his fingers began roaming of their own accord, you knew something weighed heavy on his heart. You waited patiently for him to continue talking.

“I am going to be leaving soon, tomorrow, in fact. Just found out this afternoon. I am not sure how long I will be gone, or if I’ll be able to be in contact. This mission is a big one, dangerous and involved. An all-hands-on-deck scenario if we’ve ever had one. I need you to know that if anything happens to me, I’ve put measures in place to keep you safe.”

You had heard a version of this speech a million times. Don’t let anyone into the house. Don’t say you know anything about the agency. Your partner is a tailor if anyone asks you. Maybe go stay with your mother for the week. Always a set of instructions and advice, none of which have ever been necessary. You knew how to protect yourself and you knew how to keep secrets.

“Harry, I –“ he cut you off immediately.

“Y/N, please, I need to get this out,” Harry said, sterner than his usual tone. You closed your lips and allowed him to continue.

“If something happens, Merlin will come find you. Please go about your routine like normal. If he says he has news regarding Harry, that means that whatever happened to me, you are in imminent danger. Go with him immediately. If he calls me Galahad, then he has come to inform you of my passing. You may choose to go with him or not, as you see fit. Regardless, he will hand you a key to my safety deposit box. There is enough money in there to see you to our vacation home in Mykonos and keep you comfortable. I’ve had Kingsman secure the premises, with proper communication channels in place between there and headquarters should your location be compromised. I will also be leaving my wedding ring in the box in case you’d like to keep it. I wouldn’t want it lost forever if my body is irretrievable.

“I need you to promise me, Y/N, that whatever happens to me, you will keep yourself safe. Don’t come looking for me. Don’t put yourself in danger. Forget about me and go if Merlin tells you it is necessary.”

You were stunned to silence. These conversations had always been silly reminders to keep a safe distance from strangers and to not be alone after sundown. You’d never heard him plan for you to go into hiding. It sounded like he assumed he would die on this go. The fact that his fear was only for you broke your heart.

You couldn’t get out any words. You nodded before the first of the tears fell.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I just need to know you’ll be safe. I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you as quickly as I can and in one piece. I promise.”

He was stroking your back now as you littered his flannel top with watermarks. Eventually, the tears slowed and you looked up at your love. His eyes glistened and trails of sheen made clear the path tears had taken down his face.

“I love you,” you offered, not knowing what else to say.

“I love you too, darling,” he said, planting kisses on your forehead and temple.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep now,” you said with a chuckle, sniffling as to not wet Harry’s shirt anymore.

“I had no intention of sleeping tonight. All I can imagine doing is watching you slumber, my beautiful woman without mercy,” he said, with another kiss to your forehead, this one longer and held, as though he was pulling his strength from your skin.

You chuckled once more as he pulled away. He looked at you in question.

“So you were reading Keats,” you said, “I was so comfortable, I wasn’t fully listening.”

“I’ll read it again, if you’d like?” he asked, already reaching for the book, looking for a way to move past the difficult conversation you just had. 

“Yes, please,” you said, snuggling even tighter into his side.

He began his reading again, lower and even quieter now, closer to a prayer than a recitation.

After the fourth stanza or so, you lifted yourself up from his body and planted a kiss on his lips. When you pulled away, you saw him softened. He set the book down on his stomach, pushing both hands through the base of your hair before kissing you even more deeply. He sucked your bottom lip between his, determined to be closer to you in whatever way possible.

When you pulled apart, you were both panting harder than you intended.

“Let me feel you, husband,” you said, taking your lower lip between your teeth and tugging at the buttons of his sleep shirt. “Please.” You hoped he understood just how much you needed to feel his body on top of you. To feel that he was real and with you while you still could.

Without a word, he turned you both so you were pinned underneath him, book abandoned to the floor. 

He looked down at you with intensity to his gaze that you rarely saw.

“This is the image I want to remember,” he said before kissing you again. “My wife, my beautiful wife,” he prayed, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he prepped your bodies for their union.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin brings news regarding your husband’s latest mission.

“Y/N, I have news regarding Galahad.”

Everything came to a stop. Merlin had said the word you hoped never to hear, at least not until your husband was safe in your arms once more.

Galahad. A name that had meant nothing to you years early, just a silly little thing you loosely recalled from your mother’s nightly stories before you fell asleep, safe and secure as she cocooned you in blankets. You honestly couldn’t have distinguished it from any other character from those tales of old. They all blended together in a sleepy haze that was wizards and magic, war and adventure.

But slowly over time, it had come to mean so much more.

An intelligent, charming, gentle man had walked into your bookstore one weekday afternoon seeking a recommendation and didn’t leave for hours. Then, he was just Harry as he introduced himself, just a man with a captivating smile, a charming disposition, and a love for learning.

He engaged you in easy conversation. Talk flowed without pause. You found yourself sharing intimacies like you’d known each other for years. You had felt as though someone had turned on a light where there had only been darkness. And something in the curve of his lip as he met your eyes, somewhere between you sharing why you’d opened the store and how you took your tea, made you certain he’d felt it too.

When he finally made to leave, the last customer exiting your store almost an hour prior, you asked if you could see him again over drinks or dinner. You’d never been so bold as to ask someone out of a first date. A subtle hint that you’d like a second date, sure, but never exposing yourself to outright rejection.

“Do you promise to be as enchanting as you have been this afternoon?” he’d asked in lieu of a yes.

“Even more so, if you can believe it,” you’d quipped in return.

“Then how is a man to say no?” After securing the details and properly kissing your hand, he walked out into the evening.

You immediately collapsed against the glass of your door, aware now that you had failed to breath properly for a significant amount of time, your heart hammering in your chest as though you finished right good make-out session, not engaged in the most gentlemanly of goodbyes. And once you had regained your breath, you laughed, a good hearty schoolgirl giggle that made you high and careless. You’d never been so enthralled in your life. And you never would be again.

Several months of dates, trips to museums and symphonies, nights in on the couch with a bottle of wine and a classic film, elegant dinners followed by strolls in the park, and a dozen or so earth-shattering romps in the bedroom, had made you aware of what you thought was just a nickname uttered over the phone by co-workers or clients. Your boyfriend, a tailor by trade you had been led to believe, seemed to often be called away with little notice, by a series of voices that occasionally referred to him as “Galahad.”

You wanted to believe everything was perfect, and it was, almost. When he caressed your cheek with his thumb before he kissed you, you thought the world stood still. When he held your hand as he described the species of flowers around you and what sort of animal life they would attract, you wanted to never let go. When he whispered your name into the hollow of your neck as you found your release, you wanted to love him forever. And when he gently kissed your forehead and muttered a quick, “Sorry, darling,” before leaving abruptly after another one of those calls, you thought that should be perfect too. But it wasn’t. A feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was up. Your honest, loyal, trustworthy boyfriend was keeping something from you.

And so, one night as you rested together in his bed, limbs gently intermingled as you both worked to steady your breathing after your union, the phone rang. True to fashion, he sighed, legitimately put off by having to abandon the warm comfort of your embrace. And with the usual kiss and apology, he put on his glasses, stood and made to go get dressed. Once his feet hit the floor, however, you grabbed his wrist.

“Where are you going?” you asked, trying your best not to sound accusatory right off the bat.

“You know, darling. Work,” he said, seemingly annoyed yet nervous at having to explain himself.

“You can’t expect me to believe that anymore, Harry,” you said, your tone making it clear that this was to be a serious conversation.

He turned to meet your eyes, his face falling as he sighed. “No, I suppose I shouldn’t.”

With that, he returned to bed, pulling you into his lap and encasing you with his arms.

“Y/N, you know I care for you deeply. Hell, I venture at this point, I can securely say I love you. And no part of me wants to keep secrets from you.” He sighed deeply again.

“I can’t tell you much, but I can tell you I have never lied when I have said I am going to work. Just give me 24 hours. Let me work things out and see how much I can share with you. But please, know I am not keeping anything from you to hurt you, but rather to protect you.”

You hadn’t heard much after “I love you.” He’d never said it before. A few times you thought he might, and a few times you wanted to yourself, but you had just been so afraid. You worried that if you dove in with your whole heart, the force of you would make him disappear, blown away like petals in a strong breeze. You tried your best to breath.

“You love me?” you asked, still focusing on that one phrase, meeting his eyes as a plea for confirmation.

He pulled you tighter into his embrace. “Yes, darling, I do. I know it might be too soon to say, but I also know that it is the truth of it. And you are right. I can’t expect you to not see the truth of things for yourself.”

“I love you, too,” you paused, and then added, “I just want to understand,” brushing your hand along the stubble of his chin.

He pulled you into an almost bruising kiss, desperate, hot, and needy, as though your words had opened the floodgates and you could now experience fully the passion that had been straining to burst forth.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said again as he pulled away, his breath still hot on your face, “And I’ll tell you every day, if you’ll allow me. Sadly, I do need to go now. But when I return, I’ll come with answers.”

With that, he stood and dressed. You lied in bed studying the patterns on the ceiling. You felt ecstatic, and yet simultaneously crushed. He loved you, yet some part of what you had was a lie, and you had no idea to what extent.

It had taken Harry less than 24 hours to get things sorted. You woke in the morning to a handwritten note on your coffee table requesting you at the tailor shop at noon. The hand was clearly Harry’s. You would recognize it anywhere now after months of short messages accompanying flowers and thoughtful cards on necessary occasions. A clean methodical script that was equally flowery curves and thoughtful lines. Strong and soft simultaneous, just like him.

And so you prepared, for what you didn’t know. Would you be meeting other people? Would Harry be taking you somewhere? Would everything change after today?

You put on a lovely blue dress that came to your knees, ankle boots, and a camel trench coat that Harry had gifted you for your birthday just a few weeks earlier, hoping to look courteous enough to befit a man like Harry, should introductions be necessary.

When you arrived but five minutes early, you saw Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs in front of the shop leaning against the railing, his foot tapping as though part of some nervous tick you had previously failed to trigger. He saw you down the block and immediately began moving towards you. When you were finally within range, he pulled you into his embrace. You saw a glimmer of fear swipe across his face before he managed a more controlled expression.

With his eyes intent upon yours, he asked, “Darling, I need to know now that you are in this for the long haul. You can’t unlearn what you’re about to discover in this shop. If you can’t see yourself making a life with me regardless of what I’m about to tell you, then you can walk away right now. I would understand and I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You were getting more nervous. How bad could it be that Harry fears so dearly that you might not be able to handle it? You wanted to reassure him of your love, but love really can’t conquer all, you knew. So you took a deep breath and said, “Before I decide, tell me two things, Harry.” He nodded his approval for you to continue.

“Is what you do illegal?”

Harry’s face faltered. “Sometimes.” He swallowed and kept your eye; waiting for a reaction you never gave.

“Is what you do for the greater good?”

“Definitely,” he said, smiling a little at that, prideful.

His eyes still held yours, honest and pure, still the same Harry you have grown to love.

Without another word, you grabbed his hand and began walking into the shop.

When you entered, two men sitting on the leather chairs turned to you. Both were as impeccably dressed as Harry always was, but you could tell right away that one, whom you’d come to know as Merlin, was happy to meet you and the other was decidedly not.

Harry toke your hand and brought you to sit beside him. He never let go of you the entire time the men collectively explained the situation. Harry was a secret agent for an intelligence organization working independent of the government. The agency was a well-kept secret, Harry’s missions highly dangerous, and knowledge getting into the wrong hands could mean something catastrophic. And you were, as the man known as Arthur felt the need to continuously emphasize, a liability.

Harry’s soft circles into your palms kept your breathing regular. His gaze never came away from your face. His kiss to your temple as you asked questions let you know you were loved and respected and cared for.

When you left that shop, filled with knowledge you’d never have imagined, you held on to Harry’s hand as if it were the one true constant in the world. You sat in silence on the taxi ride home. You didn’t utter a meaningful word again until you were in bed together, tea brewed and ready on the end table, as he held you close and peppered every exposed inch of your body with kisses.

“Are you okay, my love?” he asked finally, caressing your hair.

“I will be,” you told him, “I trust you.”

And that was the truth of it. You weren’t sure how to feel, knowing now that you boyfriend was in danger, always in danger, and so were you. But you trusted Harry to keep you safe. You trust Galahad to keep you safe. On that day, the name took a third meaning; not a hard-to-remember character from some childhood story, not a strange nickname occasionally uttered on phone calls, but a man, one who would protect you and keep you and love you, a secret alias that denoted all the power and strength and fortitude that lie within him.

“Y/N? Y/N? Mrs. Hart?” Gentle hands on your shoulders pulled you back to reality. You hadn’t realized you had slumped to the floor, silent tears shaking your entire body. Merlin’s looked at you closely, concern reading all over his face. You had no idea what you must look like, some pathetic blubbering fool. He had to think you foolish. You were sure agents died all the time. But never Harry. Never your Harry. Never the man who made your life joyous and fulfilling, who brought warmth to your life in a multitude of ways, who challenged you and questioned you and taught you how to be better, happier, and stronger than you ever knew possible, a man without whom you were unsure you even knew how to live.

After a few shaky breaths, you whispered, “I’m here.”

You felt something cold and metallic enter your hand.

“I can’t stay long. It is too risky. But for what it is worth, I’m truly sorry. And know just how much Harry loved you.”

He stood and you pulled yourself up on still-shaking feet.

“Normally I would say you should come with me, but Harry made me promise that should this ever happen, you’d be given the option.”

That was always Harry’s way, giving you control. Even in death, he wanted you to be able to make your own path, to dive in and seek shelter with Kingsman or to cut ties and start over. You had no idea what was right, but you knew you needed time.

“How do I find you if I change my mind?” you asked Merlin.

“Harry said he left you everything you’d need.” And with that Merlin left your store, out the same door Harry had entered all those years ago, changing your life forever.

You followed him, turning your sign to “closed,” locking the door, and leaning against the glass as you did that first night. But this time, no laughter came, just thick painful wails as you looked down at Harry’s plated metal key.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At your vacation home, you've been neglecting looking through the objects your husband left you. But one item in particular might bring you the hope you've been seeking.

Three weeks you had spent in your vacation home. Three weeks since everything about your life came crashing down. Three weeks since you locked the doors of your shop, gathered all of your strength, and boarded a plane.

You had really hoped that spending some time away from London would help to clear your head, but it hadn’t, not at all. You’d only ever spent time in Greece with Harry. Everything about your home reminded you of him. His clothes were still in the closet. His favorite foods were still in the pantry. Photos from your honeymoon lined the stairs. And so three week you had spent curled in a ball, crying on the chaise lounge overlooking the sea.

You watched as sailboats made harbor down the coast and thought of all the times you and Harry sat outside at beachfront restaurants, laughing and drinking into the night. You watched the water ebb and flow on the shoreline and thought of your wedding on that very shore, with just your mother, sister, Merlin, and the late Lancelot as witnesses. You smelled the sea breeze and remembered all those times you left the windows open as you and Harry spent the day in bed enjoying the pleasure of each other’s bodies. Even the chaise lounge brought back memories of you relaxing right here over a year ago as Harry prepared dinner just inside, the smells of roasted chicken and fresh lemons wafting your way.

But even now, twenty-one days later, you knew you weren’t done grieving. Losing Harry was not just the loss of a man, but the loss of everything that man could have been, everything you had imagined for your future together. You’d never grow old together, never retire together and explore the parts of the world you’d longed to see as couple. You’d never start the family you had been discussing for the past year or two, though neither of you had ever really been sure that was the right idea. Never again would you find the peace you found in his arms every night as you fell asleep.

You had no idea where to go from here. Life seemed meaningless without your better half. But you knew Harry would hate it if you allowed yourself to stop being happy because of him. He loved your smile and your laughter in life. He’d hate for the world to be denied it.

And so you pulled yourself up from your position. You’d only been there for about two hours today, which was a vast improvement from the previous weeks. You went into the kitchen to eat something, even though your stomach and your heart didn’t really want it.

On the counter lay still untouched the collection of things from Harry’s safety deposit box: some cash, his ring, assorted family heirlooms, a stack of important document, a letter that you couldn’t find it in yourself to read just yet, and a pair of glasses you’d recognize anywhere.

Merlin had made you promise to check in with him, not just because he cared about your well-being but because he didn’t think things were entirely safe for you. Not yet. Enemies would be looking for things to try and find out more about Harry and his life, to try and get to the heart of Kingsman through Harry’s death. Kingsman had removed any trace of connection from your London home and had done everything they could to make sure Harry’s real name and his real life were untraceable. But there was still always the possibility that you’d be found and pried for information in any way possible. Merlin had told you he promised Harry a long time ago to make sure that no harm ever befell his wife, and he was determined to keep it.

And so you put on the glasses for your daily check-in as you placed a pot of water on the stove to boil.

After a few moments, you heard Merlin’s voice. “Doing okay, Mrs. Hart?” He still called you that every time you spoke, as though a subtle reminded that you would always be respected and cared for as Harry’s significant other despite his passing.

“Okay is pushing it, Merlin,” you said as you pulled out some pasta, hoping something bland might encourage you to eat more.

“Is that a joke? I’d say you’re improving then,” he said just a lightness to his voice that made you almost hopeful. Maybe you were improving.

“I guess it was.”

“So have you seen anything suspicious?”

“No,” you said as you stirred in the noodles.

“Have you noticed anyone following you?”

“I haven’t left the house, so no.”

“And have you been in contact with anyone outside of your immediate family?”

“Just you,” you say, even though Merlin is basically immediate family at this point.

“Okay, good,” he confirms, having finished his typical line of questioning. You open your mouth to begin your goodbyes when he started talking again. “I know Harry left you a letter. He mentioned it to me before– well, before things got bad. He wanted to make sure you read it, that you knew how much he loved you. He said a lot of things before that final fight. I have the recording. I hadn’t mentioned it because I doubted you’d want to hear such a thing, but if you are even in need of hearing his voice or just some words of love from him, I can send it your way.”

Merlin was clearly rambling, unsure of how to handle the situation, but you appreciated his effort. He was right though, hearing Harry’s final words to Merlin was a little too much for your still delicate soul to bear.

“Thank you. I will let you know if I ever want it.” And with that, you and Merlin said your parting goodbyes.

You plated your pasta and set it on the counter, still unable to consume it. Your mind was drawn to the letter that Harry had left you. You didn’t think it would help you feel better, but you knew it would help you feel close to him still. Every day he was becoming more and more of a memory, you brain creating a fog around his image, his voice, his scent, in a way that made you scared you would forget him entirely. In a year, you worried he’d be nothing but a long-forgotten dream to you, a fable of the perfect man and husband that was never your reality, just an imagined alternative to your now empty life.

You seized the letter from the box and made your way to your bedroom. You curled under the blankets, pulling them tight around you. The smell of the fabric softener calmed your beating heart as you laid your head down on the pillow facing Harry’s side of the bed. So many times you had laid like this, looking into his eyes as your talked of your dreams or your pasts, your fears and your joys. You’d hold hands, scooting closer until your knees bumped. He’d caress your hair or your cheek as you’d slowly let sleep overtake you.

With a few shaky breaths, you opened the envelope with the beautiful script labeled “Y/N”.

Darling,

It pains me even to write this letter, knowing that you are somewhere in the world without me by your side. I’d spend my entire life trying to keep you from such sadness if the universe allowed me. But it seems that is not in the cards, so I hope this letter does some part in providing the comfort that I cannot.

Do you know the day I fell in love with you? You’ll probably say the day you took care of me as I healed from that mission in Oslo but that is just the first time I told you. I had loved you long before that.

Our third date, we went for a walk in the park after dinner. You allowed me to hold your hand as though it were the most natural thing to do. We passed a cafe playing music out into the street, do you remember? You stopped and wrapped your arms around my neck. You asked me in such a lovely, quiet voice to dance with you. As we swayed, you sung all the words to ‘Midnight Train to Georgia’ into my chest. At one point, you tried to spin and we nearly toppled over each other. When we righted, you held both of my hands, threw your head back, and laughed. I had never seen a more beautiful sight than that image of you so apparently happy and carefree in my company. And I laughed, too. You stole my heart that night, as you have every day since.

Even now, you, my beautiful woman, still show me no mercy. Every part of me is fully yours. As I write this, you are asleep just down the hall. But in my mind, you are right here underneath me as I shower your body in kisses, on my lap as I hold you close, or beside me holding my hand as we prepare for whatever lies ahead together.

Just know my thoughts are always with you. My heart is always with you. And come what may, I will always be your Harry for however so long as you will have me.

I love you. Always.

Harry

You tried to catch your breath as a waves of tears overtook you. Labored and hiccuped as the wails echoed out from your chest. The salty drops from your eyes littered the linens beneath you, but all you could care about was that beautiful dark script that penned the words in front of you. His last words to you had been only those pure love and adoration, the kinds of words that have filled your life daily since you’d met but that now would only be found on that page.

Minutes passed before you regained some sort of control over your body. When you did, you pulled the letter to your chest as though it were Harry himself on that page, not just his words. But as you did so, you noticed a separation. There was a second piece of paper behind the first just that you had failed to notice upon initial inspection. Quickly, you pulled the pages apart to see what else he had written.

My love,

I’m sorry to keep secrets from you, but it was necessary for your well-being.

Now that you are safely hidden away, I can tell you that I’ve been receiving threats on your life for the past several months, clearly someone trying to get to me and Kingsman through you. I haven’t told anyone because I wasn’t sure whom I could trust and I refused to put you in more danger. Turns out my instincts were correct, as I traced the last threat back to Kingsman.

Only Merlin knows your location and I know we can trust him. He was severely injured when the threats started so he cannot be the origin. He doesn’t know anything, just that I want you safe and away for as long as possible. And the less he knows the better. He’s promised me he’ll keep you safe, so please listen to him.

I believe these threats may be part of something bigger. Someone among us is dirty. Know that I will stop at nothing to secure your safety. Whoever wishes to harm you clearly doesn’t understand the lengths to which I will go to protect you.

Stay hidden as long as you can.

I love you. And burn this letter.

Harry

Your tears dried. Your sadness had resolved itself only to be replaced with confusion and fear as you read the second part of Harry’s message to you.

What did he mean by the lengths he would go to for your protection? As you thought about it, if someone was really trying to get to Harry, you were certainly safer with him dead. But whomever it was still knew you existed, still knew you would have information, though minimal, that might be valuable to some people. You were a loose end. You were a liability.

You’d have to stay hidden but for how long? When would you know the coast was clear?

You were considering everything Harry might have done to keep you safe from the dirty agent when sleep took you.

You woke hours later with a jolt.

“Harry isn’t dead,” you muttered out loud to yourself. “Harry isn’t dead,” you said a little louder as the realization dawned on you.

You knew it was crazy. You knew it was improbable. But hope is a powerful emotion. You hadn’t smiled in weeks, but concocting this story of how Harry was in hiding too, using his death as a ruse to search for your would-be killer, was the closest you had felt to joy since that dreaded conversation in bed a month ago.

You ran into the kitchen and threw on your glasses.

“Merlin,” you nearly screamed, “I need to hear those tapes.”

“Hello, Mrs. Hart,” a voice not Merlin’s responded to yours. You felt your stomach drop out at the familiarity of it. “So nice to know you’re alive and well.”


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You confront the man who has been observing you through the glasses and learn the truth about Harry's death.

“Where’s Merlin?” you asked Arthur, your voice shaking with fear. Something was incredibly wrong if Merlin wasn’t available to you and you felt paralyzed without the partnership of Harry to carry you through. Three weeks you spent with nothing to do but wallow in sorrow at the loss of your husband, and within the course of hours, everything had changed; Harry was potentially alive, your life was greatly at risk, and now Arthur, leader of the Kingsman, had found a way to contact you while in hiding. You had no idea what to do. 

“I haven’t the slightest clue, my dear. He left in quite a hurry. Too quick to properly hide this communications channel from me so it seems,” Arthur mused.

You were now pacing the house trying to figure out your next step, but you realized quickly that Arthur could see your movement, could see the beach out your window, the plants in the front yard, the photos of Harry on your walls. You had no idea how to turn off the sight on these silly glasses so you instinctively covered your eyes. You knew he had access to your communications channel but that didn’t mean he had access to your GPS coordinates, environmental condition reads, and other more remote communication that you knew the glasses to be equipped to do. You were determined to give him as little information as possible.

Arthur chuckled as you shrouded him in darkness. “Too late for that, Mrs. Hart. I should have men on your location within moments.”

“Why?” you asked as you blindingly reached for the butcher’s block containing the knives. You pulled the one with the longest handle, assuming it to the biggest. You couldn’t throw off the glasses yet. You needed answers, but you also needed protection.

“Your husband stole something of ours and you’re going to help us get it back.” The man’s last few words were interrupted by the sound of wheels kicking up pebbles in your driveway. They had found you already.

Panicked, you ran, throwing off your glasses as you reached the patio door. You rushed down the hillside towards the beach, knowing you could take the beach into town. The closer to people you were, the safer. You ran as hard as your legs allowed, knife still in hand.

After several seconds you heard sand sloshing behind you, the noise getting louder and closer by the second. The sound of the fast strides were the only noise that could overcome the throbbing of your heartbeat in your ears, the pounding nearly suffocating you with its intensity. You’d never make it to town you knew, so you made a beeline for the dock, hoping you could knock your assailant into the water or get the boat started in time to get further away.

There were a million things wrong with your plan, but none of them crossed your mind. Your mind was just repeating over and over again, “Safe. Safe. Safe.” You promised Harry you would keep yourself safe. And if he was still alive somewhere in this world, you would do everything in your power to make sure you could again one day find each other, whole and unharmed.

Strong arms grabbed at the back of your shirt as you hit the wood boards of your home’s tiny pier. You thrashed against them, as hard and violently as you could. You made it a few more steps before a hand grabbed you again. You turned to see a young man leering down on you, face tight in rage. You swung wildly at the man, hoping to make contact with any part of his person that might get too close, anything to bide you more time. He took a few steps back to avoid your thrusts before catching your wrist in his grasp and twisting painfully. As you struggled, you began to collapse forward, contorting yourself with his turns to avoid breaking your wrist. The pain was excruciating but you couldn’t give in. Right before you would lose your grip entirely, you pushed your whole body forward into your forearm, pushing yourself closer to the attacker but also thrusting the knife into the meat of his thigh. He growled angrily at you as you turned and ran.

You managed a few more steps down the pier before something hit your head with a terrible force. Everything around you blurred and slowly faded to black right before your body landed limply in the water.

Harry clenched his jaw before throwing off his own glasses, completely overcome with anger. He had been watching you these past three weeks through the glasses he left you. Even if he had to be in hiding, he refused to let his precious wife go without his care and protection.

He hated more than anything having to lie to you. He hated having to watch every day your sluggish motions, hear your devastated voice, process your words of grief and sadness and love. But he had to do what he did. He needed to keep you as far away as possible and he needed to investigate Arthur outside the protocol of Kingsman.

Each day when you would pick up those glasses to talk to Merlin, he was right there listening, hearing your sweet lyrical voice drop to a near whisper as you confirmed that you were indeed okay by Merlin’s standards but may never be okay of spirit again. He wanted to scream at you to open his letter. He knew how your mind worked and knew you would put two and two together, but he had also left it vague enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if he indeed were dead and never returned. Arthur was a dangerous man in with some notoriously ruthless criminals. He was barely holding onto his life as is.

And now yours was in even worse danger than before. With a few shaky breaths, he packed up his things from the safehouse where he was conducting his investigation and made for the place where he knew Arthur was going to take you. He’d been able in this past three weeks to put together the extent of Arthur’s criminal contacts and understand their motives. He knew now what Arthur wanted, but it didn’t really matter. Arthur and his men had you and Harry was finding it hard to remember his code; to take life only in order to save life. He wanted more than anything to end any man who even dared to harm you. If you came into mortal danger, Arthur and every single man even close to him would be killed. He’d see to it personally.

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself strapped into a seat on a plane. The young man that attacked you sat in front of you, cleaning his gun in excruciating detail. You blinked a few times to clear your eyes and take in your surroundings. You had been in this jet one or two times before when Harry would finish a mission quicker than expected and decided to make a vacation of his remaining days in some remote location. If Arthur was using Kingsman equipment to support your kidnapping, then you were essentially hopeless for any sort of rescue.

You heard footsteps behind you, and crane your neck to see Arthur exit the cockpit.

“Why Mrs. Hart, I didn’t expect you to be joining us so soon.”

He clearly wanted you to respond, but you wouldn’t. You had so many questions but you knew this man would give you no answers.

“Not even an ‘Hello’? Shame, Y/N. I thought our dear Harry would have taught you better manners than that.”

You couldn’t contain yourself at that. You pulled against your restraints as hard as you could. “Don’t you dare speak of my husband—“

He laughed at you before you could even finish. “Just rest, my dear. We can discuss all the reasons I cannot dare speak of your precious Harry later.” Arthur made his way back to the cockpit. He called behind himself, “Charlie, please make sure our guest doesn’t do anything stupid.”

You relaxed against the straps about you. You finally looked ahead at the man who you now knew to be Charlie. He occasionally lifted an eye to you and continued to clean his gun. You thought you should be overcome with fear but you weren’t. You realized now that at some point you had accepted that your life was forfeit when you learned of Harry’s death, not because you suspected anything like this, but because you couldn’t imagine any life without him. You were a shell of a person, the ghost of the bright, vibrant, carefree woman you had once been when you had a man beside you who showed you unending love and respect and encouragement.

Hours later, you sat in the back of the car, free of any formal bondage, but being eyed like a downright criminal, as you moved through the streets of London. You had no idea what these men wanted from you. Maybe they assumed you knew way more than you did or that Harry had given you something, but he hadn’t. He always made a point of keeping you as separated as possible from his work. You were his escape, his special something to come home to, the thing that made him Harry Hart and not Galahad.

The car flew down streets you began to recognize more and more until you eyes fell upon the house you and Harry shared.

As Charlie dragged you out of the car, you dreaded what was about to happen. Your home, the sacred place where you and Harry had spent your happiest moments, was about to be torn to pieces in search of whatever it was these men wanted.

Once inside, Arthur got right into your face, holding up a small blue vile intensely close to your eyes. “Now, Mrs. Hart. We are looking for the counterpart to this, a yellow vile of similar size and shape. I know Harry has it in this house. And you are going to show us where.”

Your eyes grew wide with recognition, but you immediately played it off as fear. Several weeks before this chaos began, Harry had replaced Mr. Pickle’s collar with a leather strap containing a vile just like the one you’d been shown, only at the time you thought it to just be a gem or trinket of some kind. It had seemed strange to you at the beginning of your relationship that Harry kept the body of his pet in the bathroom, but after you learned everything about Kingsman, it made perfect sense. When you had asked him about the collar, he had said, “I find it quite subtle, don’t you think, love?” And you hadn’t thought any more about it. But that was Harry’s style; hide things in plain sight.

You clenched your jaw at Arthur and stayed silent.

You felt Charlie’s arms come up around your shoulders, pressing down on your neck. Arthur got even closer to your face. “Sure you don’t want to answer me?”

You maintained your silence, scratching at the arms around your throat. Quickly, Charlie spun you around and slapped you hard across the face, knocking you to the ground.

“Don’t go too hard on her, Charlie,” Arthur said. “We may need that pretty face of hers. Who knows what kind of security a precise man like Harry has on his things.”

At that, the younger of the two took a few steps away from you. The older man came towards your limp form and pulled you up to standing. You were surprised and scared by his strength, so odd for a man of his age. “Dear Mrs. Hart,” he said, oozing false tenderness that made your skin crawl, “I always told Harry what a liability you were.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at his face. “You were his weak spot. I had hoped that Galahad would have just stopped pursuing our little organization if he thought you were at risk. But of course he was too stubborn to just back down. And now he’s dead because of it. So maybe try not being as stupid as your late spouse, hmm?”

He scoffed at his last statement, as though the idea of death was beneath him. You clenched your jaw in anger. “Harry didn’t succumb to your petty threats, and neither will I,” you say, determined to stand up for the integrity of your believed-dead husband.

Arthur huffed and began dragging you by the elbow up the stairs towards your husband’s study. At the top of the landing, he grabbed your jaw again and told you in rather direct words that either you would help him find the vile or he’d kill you and tear apart ever piece of your home until he found it anyway.

You quivered under his gaze, fear overcoming you officially. You knew you had to give in if you wanted to live. You were about to utter the location when you saw a faint light over his shoulder down the hall. Your heart became alight and you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face.

Over the long years of your marriage, Harry and you had developed some non-verbal communication systems. Harry often spent long hours working in his highly secure home office. You often were not allowed in, especially if he was in the middle of key research or direct communications with headquarters regarding secret information. And because he often left with such short notice, you had a few occasions where you had assumed he was in his study when indeed he had been whisked out of the house or even out of the country without being able to notify you. You’d toss and turn at night not knowing where he was, so Harry began turning on his grandfather’s old Tiffany lamp in the hall outside his study to let you know he was inside. It wasn’t an easy lamp to turn on either. The switches on the wall didn’t help, but rather a flick of a partially occluded level on the back side of the base. No one would do it but Harry. He was here. Harry was home.

Arthur saw your smile and immediately pulled you to him. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said.

“And what would that be, my dear?” Arthur asked.

Your smile grew even wider. “That you’re going to die if you don’t let me go.”

“So you think you can kill me?” You felt Charlie press his gun into your back.

“No, but my husband can,” you said with all the pride and love you truly felt for Harry oozing into your voice.

Arthur laughed, “Your husband is dead, Mrs. Hart. Just tell us where the vile is and we can stop this little game.”

You just stared ahead at him, unable to remove the smile from your face.

Arthur sighed, “Charlie, she’s too exhausting. Do what you want with her.” You heard the gun in your back be cocked, which sent a shiver down your spine.

But almost immediately, you felt the cold pressure pulled away from your body, heard the gun hit the ground, and the hard thud of the body that followed. Before you could turn or duck, Arthur pulled you forward by the wrist, your back pressed into him, his gun held to your head. You were now turned to face your husband, standing over the limp, incapacitated body of Charlie.

You looked deeply into the eyes of the man you had believed for so long to be dead. The love of your life. Your better half. The soft brown eyes hidden behind his glasses producing a gaze that bore into your own. His eyebrows were furrowed as if to convey a million emotions to you: sorrow for having put you in this situation and through so much grief, relief to finally see you again, concentration to guarantee a safe escape from this scenario, and, more than anything, pure and perfect love.

“Galahad, I’m warning you,” Arthur called out to Harry. His gaze quickly left yours to make contact with your assailant whose grip around you tightened as he addressed your husband.

“It’s a little too late for warnings, Arthur.” Harry’s voice was serious. “You’ve threatened my wife, so now you die.” With that last statement, Harry took a step forward. You felt the metal of the barrel push harder into your temple.

“Don’t, Harry,” Arthur said, his voice shaking.

Harry took another step forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw an arm strike Arthur’s elbow with impressive force, knocking the hand holding the gun away from your head to point into the arm. The force of it knocked your body sideways into the arm supporting your waist, dunking you forward, With the smallest window, Harry shot, landing a bullet cleanly into Arthur’s skull. Arthur collapsed, pulling you to the ground with him.

It took you a moment to get over the shock and recognize Merlin beside you, helping to pull you to your feet. He helped to right you and brushed some blood off of your cheek.

Once you regained your bearings, you ran into your husband’s outstretched arms. His arms encircled you around the waist, tighter and stronger than you ever remembered. Immediately your body warmed at the contact you had so desperately craved. You didn’t realize how much more your limbs needed confirmation of Harry’s existence than your mind. You nuzzled into his chest as though trying to bury yourself within the confines of his embrace. In that moment, taking in everything that was your husband, you felt alive for the first time in almost a month. You felt whole. The emptiness in your stomach began to fill, the heat of it rising into your chest and neck and face until it poured out your eyes in the form of salty tears. You began to shake with the force of them, your nails clinging desperately into the back of Harry’s jacket, your knuckles white with their tension.

You knew Harry was crying as well, one hand bunching into your hair at the base of your head, the other securely around your waist as he pulled himself into you. He bent down fully, forcing your body into a light back-bend, so that he could run his nose through your hair and around your neck.

His breath came out ragged as he tried to regain control, clearly moved by having you back in his arms. “Darling, it’s alright,” he whispered lovingly into your ear, “I’m home.”


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Harry home again, you begin to adjust to life after 'the incident.'

You exited the bedroom, unaware of how late it actually was until you saw the clock on the small table in the hall. 2am. You were wearing a lovely blush-colored silk nightgown, which would have covered just to your mid-thighs if not for the intricate lace that flowed down to your knees. You had topped yourself with a delicate floral blue robe, as you were immediately assaulted by the cold when you had pulled yourself from the comforts of your blankets to search for your husband.

The sleepwear had been gifted to you last week upon Harry’s return from a mission in Paris. Ever since “the incident”, as you had started referring to it, Harry had made a point of showering you in what you would consider unnecessary presents. But when you’d mention that he was over-doing it, he’d simply kiss your forehead and tell you there was no such thing. You knew he was trying to make up for the stress and trauma you had been put through, and while it made you feel a little better, you knew it made him feel even more so. He needed to show you how important you were to him, to confirm that you were always on his mind even when he was away. But you wished he’d just save all of that energy and spend more time with you.

With the loss of Arthur and many of Kingsman’s communication channels being compromised as a result, the team of agents had been working almost non-stop to tear down and rebuild what Arthur had ruined. Kingsman had no idea to what extend Arthur had been involved with criminal organizations and so even precaution was necessary to secure no more such incidents in the future. You knew it was important, but dammit you just wanted your husband back. Knowing what it was like to lose him made the need to have him beside you so strong it was almost suffocating.

The light was on in the hall. Harry was working, again. You sighed and paced outside the door. You were worried. Almost every night this week, Harry would exit bed in the middle of the night to continue to work. He thought you didn’t notice, but you felt every time the bed shifted and he fled for his study. You felt the loss of his warmth and his embrace so acutely that you’d wake as though from a nightmare, frantically feeling the bed beside you. Usually the door would be open a crack and you’d see the lamp in the hall. At least Harry was safe. But tonight made it one too many nights when your husband left you alone. You needed him still. You played like you were back to normal after everything, but still those three weeks of believing Harry was gone for good were still too recent to allow you to rest.

And so you did the one thing you never had done before; you knocked.

You stood outside the door, folded slightly in on yourself, fingers coming to your lips to ease the anxiety.

After a few moments, you saw the wood shift and Harry’s head pop out the crack. He looked dazed and tired in his pajamas, but not irritated the way you suspected he would be.

Groggily, he spoke. “Y/N, darling, I thought you were in bed.” His voice seemed as sheepish and hesitant as you knew yours was about to be.

“I was,” you said, looking down at your hands, “But I felt you leave and…” You had no idea how to finish that sentence.

Harry sighed, clearly looking ashamed. He mumbled, almost so you couldn’t hear, “I was trying so hard not to disturb you.” He finally met your eye and opened the door to allow you to come in.

You entered the room you had only seen from the doorway a few times. You were curious to its contents, but instead of investigating, you turned to Harry.

“Tell me, love. Why have you been working so late these past several nights?”

Harry questioned, “You noticed?”

“Of course. The bed feels so empty without you,” you said with a little more vulnerability than you liked.

Harry took a few deep breaths before moving forward and holding you, taking your elbows in his hands. “You still aren’t safe,” he said, low and quiet.

“Harry,” you said firmly, reaching up to stroke his jaw, his hands falling seamlessly to your waist, “I will never be safe. There is no going back for me. Remember when you first told me about all of this?” You gestured around the room expecting to reference all the articles and maps on the wall, case files on the shelves, and tech on the desk, but quickly stopped. Everything was nearly empty and bare. There was a stack of boxes in the corner and nothing but a laptop and a few still-to-be-packed file folders on the desk.

“Harry?” you asked, still processing your surroundings.

His grip on your waist tightened. “The best way to keep you safe is to get my work out of our home. When I’m home, I’m Harry. When I’m home, I’m with you and I need to be present for that. I spend enough time at headquarters. If they need me, I have my glasses. Why should I have everything here too when it could just draw danger closer to the woman I love?” He said the last words so close to your face that his lips were ghosting across yours. Ever since you were reunited, your relationship had grown even more sexually charged than it ever had been, as though you both needed to feel each other to confirm you weren’t dreaming. Quickly, he pecked your lips ever so lightly. You instinctively leaned your head forward for more but Harry had already pulled away.

As you blinked open, brought back to reality, you found his gaze studying your face, a faint smile on his lips.

“I was thinking this room could be much better served for a different purpose, don’t you think?” Harry said.

“Such as?”

“A study we both share maybe so you have a place to do the books for the business at home. A library. A guest bedroom for when your family visits. A nursery, that is if that is still a thing you might want with me.” he finished his list with the last few words being barely above a whisper, as though unsure he were saying the right thing.

You didn’t really process all the possibilities. The point was clear though. In this home, you would come first. Without answering him, you lifted both hands to his cheeks and gently pulled his face towards yours, a long slow kiss that brought life back to your limbs and warmed you to the core. Your tongue brushed his bottom lip and he pulled you closer to him, hands tightening on your hip bones, lips moving and sucking in a way that made you feel not just wanted but completely and utterly needed

“Thank you, Harry,” you said as you pulled away to breath.

Harry chuckled. Running his hands up and down the soft silk from your hips and your sides, his fingertips just ghosting the underside of your breasts.

“What?” you asked, confused by his amusement.

“Darling, you have no idea what you do to me, do you? Still my beautiful woman with no mercy. You’ll be the death of me.”

“Probably,” you said with mischief in your voice.

That earned you a full laugh from your husband, as he took your hand to pull you with him back into the warmth and comfort of your bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first story that I ever shared. I've lurked on AO3 and tumblr for such a long time, wrote a ton on my own, but never had the courage to share until recently. I was scared, but I have been amazed by the kindness of the community! If you'd like to follow my writing, come over to my tumblr. I'll only be posting the multi-chapter fics and those one-shots that aren't reader-inserts over here, so if one-shots or headcanons are of interest to you, find me there (@ardentmuse). Thanks, lovelies!


End file.
